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The Story of the Splashpark

When my friend emailed me and asked if I wanted to meet her at a (sort of) local splash park this week, it sounded like a great idea. I really like this woman, and don’t end up seeing her very often. Plus, our kids get along really well. Plus, a splashpark!

Doesn’t it look awesomely awesome?

It so didn’t turn out quite as well as I’d hoped.

We got there before our friends. (Apparently she’d has some sort of disaster with an ill-fitting swimsuit for her daughter that needed to be replaced ONLY with a High School Musical suit available ONLY at Macy’s, where she had to go as soon as they opened. At least I didn’t have that problem.)

At first everything went great. My kids were ecstatic. There were waterfalls, geysers, showers, water mazes, everything a child could want. See how fun?

Then ten thousand day campers descended on the splashpark and all hell broke loose.

Jack scraped his foot, which may not seem like a big deal, but he’s suddenly really freaked out by blood. Wait. Let me clarify: He’s suddenly really freaked out by his blood.

So, I’d calmed Jack down a little and he was sitting at a table eating a graham cracker when I watched a camper collide with Quinn and knock him to the cement. All I could do was gasp as I watched his head clonk on the ground. It was worrisome enough that a splashpark staffer came over to see if we needed help.

Fortunately he’s okay. He sulked and yelled for a while and then I convinced him to go play. Meanwhile, Sam was moping because his friend hadn’t arrived yet.

But when she did arrive, he displayed little to no interest in playing. And then Quinn fell again. And Jack tried to play, but a couple bigger kids edged him out of what he was trying to do.

So, then they did this:

They did that for the remaining hour and a half that we were there. Oh, except for the time Quinn ventured out again and was having fun, only to be pushed down by another camper.

He’s sort of one big contusion at this point.

I mean, it could have been worse. I had a fun time chatting with my friend. And my kids were pretty compliant because they were sulking. Although we could have done the same thing for free in my backyard splashpark.

But eventually it became clear that my kids weren’t going to play, so I dressed Quinn and myself only to see Jack get up and go into the water. After he came back after a (short) stint playing, I was trying to get him to tell me if he wanted to stay or leave when fully-clothed Quinn said, “I want to play in the water.”

It was the best of both worlds: I got to fight them to try to get them to play and I got to fight them to try to get them to leave.

So I had a little internal back-and-forth with myself and then put him back in his swimsuit.

And he played for about four seconds.

And that was the end of that.

I forced everyone to get dressed and pee and we left. Quinn was asleep before we hit the main road. And Sam followed suit shortly thereafter.

And that is the entire story of the splashpark. Except for when we were walking to the car and I fell down and sprained my ankle.

Oh well, at least it’s not like I am going to be on my feet walking around a convention and a hilly city all weekend.

And that is why my kids have never been introduced to a splashpark. Only now our town wants to put on in where they put the great playground. A playground that gets descended upon every stinking day by campers as well. Something I forgot until I took my kids there today. Oh well.

Man, oh man, this sounds like a lot of our playdates. Except, well, I have only one kid (THANK YOU GOD!!!), and I’m not you. But otherwise, the same playdate!!

So often we have playdates where Little Man refuses to play with his “friends” and cries ’cause he wants to be alone, but as soon as it’s time to leave, he’s all “I wanna play with _______!!!” For the love of God.

I’m sorry it wasn’t a very good outing, but I’m really glad you blogged about it because I was going to head to that splashpark next week with my crew. Rethinking that now. Maybe we will stick with our local fountain.

Have a great time at BlogHer! The gimp will distract them from the haircut. :-)

Oh G-d! I may have to rethink giving that place another try. Two summers ago SB went and couldn’t tolerate the “noise” from all the water. Of course back then he also couldn’t stand the sound of the ocean but is now fine with it.

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Stimey believes rodents are funny, autism may be different than you think, and that if you have a choice between laughing and crying, you should always try to laugh—although sometimes you may have to do both.